Chapter 1: Rest in Peace
He had died.
"Lord Montesquieu-!"
Rain fell upon a body too slack to write off as unconscious. The bolts of lightning racing against each other across the grim horizon seemed too illustre to mark off as a coincidence. Really- Izaya felt as though he had just dropped into the first episode of a series' last season.
The clouds of purple and aquamarine blurring the sky seemed ready to initiate some kind of background for the epic final fighting scene of the hero against the villain.
Except there was no hero.
There was no villain.
There was just him and he was dead.
"Raphael-!" again the same shriek pierced Izaya's ears although this time it stemmed from a woman. Hurrying through puddles of dirt and grass the medieval garment was quickly soaked with brown stains. Her hair tied to a bun carrying thousands of pearls started to become loose as both the wind, the motion and the rain destroyed what had undoubtedly been hours of delicate work.
Worry defined all expressions present as more and more people filled the tiny garden in the back of what seemed to be some sort of old mansion.
Ivy had gained the upper hand in its fight against the gardener and so had the bushes of white roses wildly taking over vast heaps of the meadow.
Knees meeting the ground with greater force than needed the lavender dress was sullied beyond recognition as the hysteric woman dropped to the ground.
"Can you hear me, Raphael?!" Shaking hands reached for Izaya's face as he blinked against the raging confusion in his mind.
Yes.
His face. He was the one previously addressed as lord Montesquieu, called Raphael, and most importantly, the dead body laying on the ground.
He had died.
Again the most immanent but apparently accurate thought crossed his mind.
"Raphael! Say something!"
God, heavens this woman-
Face scrunching into irritation he tried to ignore the assault to his ears.
Where was he? What happened? None of what he was seeing or hearing made sense.
He had been strolling within the streets of Ikebukuro. No,wait. He had been running.
Yes.
That thought struck him as more accurate as he tried to collect his thoughts.
It had been raining too, someone had been chasing him and then-
A shot.
Eyes blowing wide, Izaya stared at the sky above.
That's right. He remembered- there had been someone with a gun- a gun and-
Jerking up, Izaya rose from the ground like a madman as he reached for his chest.
He was expecting to find heaps of blood draining his heart as it ceased all function.
Yet he did not as a vest whiter than the garden's roses met his sight.
He was wearing some kind of garment as well. Frills of beige decorated with small pieces of emerald and gold were making up his chest. A tight vest of the same deep green color was hugging his shoulders.
Again the woman shrieked.
Hands clasped his cheeks left and right as she continued bombarding him with questions about his well being.
Just what in the world was going on?
He was soaked from head to toe, his back hurt and his sight was blurred by rain. Leaning to the side he pushed at the woman's shoulder before spotting what he had needed to see.
There was a window settled in the bricks of the wall not too far. Dirty glass of low quality and dusty stains reflected the scenery unfolding in the garden.
And Izaya's breath choked.
He saw the woman. Her reflection.
He saw a couple bystanders of unknown origin and standing. Their reflection.
And he saw himself.
Sitting there in his grotesque emerald attire.
Red hair moved aside as Izaya touched what he ought to be his own skin.
This was not him.
There was no fur trimmed coat, there was no red glint to his eyes. Instead his hair had taken on the color of a ginger, it was long, arguably beautiful, but not his.
His eyes. They were as green as the tasteless vest. His skin was pale but clean- garments and a set of earrings were dangling from his body and it was clear upon first glance that he appeared to be some kind of higher standing noble.
Again the woman continued with her hysteric rants but he couldn't bring himself to pay her any mind.
He died.
He had died and came back to life.
How?
Why?
Where?
An incredible sense of loss suddenly overwhelmed the raven as he felt himself teether dangerously close to a chasm of panic.
He was dead.
Everything he had was lost- everything he did, everything he knew- this setting- where was he? What time was this?
Was he even going to continue living here?
He felt no pain, did dying hurt? He didn't know-
Everything was gone, everyone he knew he-
… who?
Lips trembling against the seething cold of the gruesome rain Izaya brushed across them as he tried to ignore the vast darkness of nothingness that suddenly filled his chest.
Who?
Who did he miss?
He didn't know.
He couldn't remember-
He had lived in a city called Shinjuku, he had been running through the streets of Ikebukuro. He had been an information broker, he had been messing with people. He liked chess and any other game that contained any form of strategy. His computer had been his closest ally along with his phone. So many useless details about himself filled his memory.
He remembered everything about himself, but no one else.
Not a single person came to mind. Instead there was this gaping hole inside his chest weighing more than his entire body.
Did he have family? Friends? A lover? Enemies? Children?
Who was he talking to? Who did he like? What kind of people did he hate?
A searing headache started to make itself apparent and only added to the sense of despair.
"Raphael, look at me!" Again the woman called what appeared to be his name.
Raphael.
He detested it-
What was he? A god damned angel?
Annoyance coupled with frustration served a dangerous cocktail and Izaya quickly bit back the words he was going to hurl at her.
This woman.
She apparently cared for him.
He had to calm down.
Access the situation. He had no idea what was going on. Maybe this was some kind of fucked up dream.
A gush of relief washed over him. Right-
How did he not think of this sooner?
He remembered being shot. Of course. He probably was. Maybe he was in some kind of coma. The doctors were probably operating on his body at this very moment. It would explain this fucked up sensation in his chest. The confusion. Him not remembering the weirdest details.
Fake calmth spread in his chest as Izaya clung to the only viable option his mind was going to accept.
A dream.
This was what it was.
Ringing like there was no tomorrow the bells inside his head finally subsided and made room to perceive his surroundings.
It was pouring. He had already noticed as much before. And yet they were outside.
Why?
Eyes trailing up he suddenly spotted a window. The glass appeared broken and the curtain was pulled outside.
Did he fall from the window?
An old geezer with a body beyond what should be capable of sustaining life suddenly forced its way into his vision. Yellowed teeth and a breath made for killing spoke closer to Izaya's face than he liked.
"Lord Montesquieu, can you hear me?"
Who?
Ah. Right.
Him.
Casting one last glance towards the tainted window Izaya swallowed. A bolt of lightning raced across the sky and he took in his appearance once more. His facial structure remained the same. That was also for his body it appeared as he felt no significant difference. He was lean, but not too thin, familiar muscles tensed in his body and he believed them to be as agile as he was used to be.
Red hair. That was the most prominent feature that differed from his usual form. Dark red hair and green eyes. Brilliant green if he may add.
… he had to say his new style looked pretty, despite not being exactly convenient. Feeling his strands of hair being soaked he imagined they were a hassle to take care of.
At least he was spared a beard.
"God heavens, brother, are you alright?!" Another woman had entered the garden. A bit less hysteric but with striking resemblance to the first one he figured she was supposed to be his sister.
Then that hysterical woman- ah. His mother. Of course. Her son had just fallen out of a window in what appeared to be some kind of antique time frame, of course she was hysterical.
He should probably be dead.
Wait, was he?
Glance quickly casting down once more Izaya did a mental as well as physical check on his body. He appeared to be unhurt.
"...I'm fine." Thank god.
Izaya had been reluctant to speak in case his voice had also changed into some annoying creaking sound. He was extremely pleased to find the words had remained just as he remembered.
"Raphael, dear, are you hurt? Do you feel pain anywhere?" Again the woman who appeared to be his mother spoke. Her dress was slowly but surely getting soaked from both the falling rain as well as the puddle she was kneeling in.
"I'm fine, mother. What happened?" Relief spread across the woman's expression and Izaya dully noted that he seemed to have guessed right.
"You fell, dear. From the window- I- We saw your body through the window. I even dropped your grandmother's crystal glass, would you believe?" her words flew too quick and too hasty to match the light content she was trying to convey. She was obviously trying to remain calm so as to not worry her son.
… how old was he anyway?
He felt not a minute older than before, so he guessed 28? She must be an overprotective specimen if she treated her son like this.
Careful glances were cast to the old geezer's side as he reached for Izaya's wrist. A few daunting nods and meaningful glances were cast as he touched Izaya's new body without permission.
A doctor.
Either that or some kind of pervert. Not many other options came to mind when it came to identifying the profession of a man touching nobility without any questions asked.
Also "Raphael" had fallen out of the window mere seconds ago. Would be kinda weird for a pervert to strike with so many people present.
"I must have been extremely lucky then. Did the roses cushion my fall?" The smallest of tears suddenly gathered at his mother's eyes and she quickly wiped them away as her voice dropped to pure gratitude.
"Seems they did."
The shadow of a man towering above both servants and family was suddenly looming over Izaya. Turning his head he faced integrity, solemnity and a bloodline of high standing. This was the head of the family. Raphael's father. The description struck Izaya as right despite the scarce clues being presented.
"This is no place for garnering fame, what is the true state of yourself?" Feeling the need to respond in a similar manner he quickly cleared his throat.
"It is what I said, father, I appear to be unhurt except for a bruise on my back." His reply seemed to have been sufficient as a pleased nod was given.
"Very well." Extending his arm into Izaya's direction he quickly took the probably rare offer of help. He didn't really know what it was, but Izaya couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't want to disappoint this guy.
Eyes scanning his body up and down the head of the family quickly nodded at his own assessment of the situation before turning to the rest of the bystanders.
Only now Izaya noticed the garments of black and white.
Servants. A couple maids and butlers that's what had made the rest of the blurry crowd gathering around him. Relief seemed to be the ruling emotion within their rows as their attention drew back to his father.
"Let's move back into the castle. The weather is getting worse as we speak." Shocked glances were exchanged and quick whispers hushed to one another as the maids moved. The rain intensified and a new set of steps entered the scene as another female appeared on site.
Eyes of the same vibrant green and a dress matching his mother's dirtied in the rain.
"Brother! Did you get hurt?" Brother, huh?
She appeared to be younger by a few years. Her manner of speaking as well as the way she moved gave that fact away easily. It had something familiar yet entirely alien to Izaya.
A butler was right at her heels and had seemingly failed to keep her inside the building as a glare made of darts was shot from their father.
The poor guy visibly flinched and Izaya turned.
He needed time and most importantly peace. All these people, all these unfamiliar faces only intensified the headache this whole scenario was giving him.
"I will be putting on something more adequate if it's allowed."
Pointing at his attire which happened to be soaked to the bone and dirtied beyond recognition at his back especially Raphael's parents gave a quick understanding nod.
"Of course, take your time-" the mother agreed- albeit she sounded a little off while doing so.
Izaya couldn't blame her. Her son had just fallen out of a window, appeared to be unhurt and unfazed and requested for nothing more than clean clothes.
He was very much aware what an odd sight he was probably presenting at the moment and yet he couldn't find himself caring.
Same went for the little sibling that had appeared and yet to receive an answer to her worried question.
He didn't care.
He didn't care at all.
All of this- it was just a dream. An illusion. He had no part of this.
Striding forward quickly, two maids followed at the same pace as Izaya headed for the mansion. Only upon entering the door did they move in front and he was suddenly very happy about them leading him to his room as he realized he had no idea about this castle's outline.
Carpets of bloody red and polished chandeliers made up the halls. Cold was seeping from the old stones making up the walls and Izaya felt himself freeze even further.
Swinging open the old door leading to what appeared to be his chambers revealed a fireplace holding a dying flame.
The window was still open and the curtain ripped in half.
That's where Raphael had fallen from.
Casting a few hesitant glances at Izaya and the window the maids quickly scurried over, closing what was left to be closed while taking off the curtain.
Busying themselves they moved around, opened a cupboard, drew a few pieces of clothing forth, arranged them on the bed- All actions that were probably to be expected and yet right now Izaya just wanted them gone.
"If you would excuse me for a moment."
Startled upon the odd request the maids looked at each other. But gladly they made no fuss. It seemed his standing was quite the high ranking one as the maids merely bowed in what appeared to be utter devotion.
"Of course my lord."
Lord.
How fucking convenient.
Nothing but a quick nod was given as Izaya tried his best to keep his polite smile in place.
But as soon as the wooden object fell into its hinges it fell.
Silence returned to the room interrupted by nothing but the pitiful sound of dying flames.
What?
Just what?
What had happened?
What was going on?
Why was he inside this body?
Why in this time frame?
Was it a dream? Or was that just a one sided wish?
Nothing but chaos circled his mind as Izaya let himself sink onto the edge of the bed. His index finger and thumb found their way to his temples respectively as he closed his eyes in an attempt to sort his thoughts.
Orihara Izaya. Age 28. He had no recollection of his parents, or family whatsoever, but he remembered a school. Raira Academy. He remembered no students but he remembered emotions. The word family triggered something that resembled care- for who? He didn't know. And that missing knowledge dipped his head into a clogged sense of pain.
Same for the school he went to.
He recalled amusement, a feeling of superiority- he was smart. He had probably been smarter than anyone. Yet he had a feeling it wasn't his grades that had brought him joy. Then work. He was an information broker. The job brought more emotions than anything else. He felt tension, curiosity, amusement, dedication, but also a certain kind of lingering sadness.
And for some unknown reason he felt thrill. Absolutely thrill. His body was tensing just thinking about wandering the streets of Ikebukuro.
Why?
Taking a deep breath Izaya tried to calm the storm of thoughts inside his head. He let his back thud backward into what was supposed to be a comfortable king size bed.
It was not.
It was hard.
All the expensive material didn't matter as it was uncomfortable, hard to the touch and itchy. Just what was this area? Was this some kind of medieval setting?
With a shudder racing down his body Izaya remembered the time span of darkness, torture, burning witches and the plague.
Gripping his own arm with as much pressure as he could manage he realized with dread that he felt the pain of it.
This… was no dream was it?
For a dream it was way too detailed.
… had he really been reincarnated? In the life of this guy?
Eyes closed he let his arm rest above them. A choked whisper escaped his lips. "Fuck."
What was he supposed to do? This life- did he even want it? What did it even have to offer? This world? At least he appeared to be of high standing. He could have had it worse.
And yet-
The bitterness of his loss was just too tremendous to ignore.
He didn't know what to do- and why? Of course, because he lacked information. He lacked knowledge of the time, the place and the setting he had found himself in.
And then there was this endless pit in his stomach refusing to leave no matter what he did.
A bolt of lightning illuminating the room more than needed startled Izaya and his head turned towards the window.
It had barely been fixed at all. Wind was blowing inside the room. But now that he looked into its direction his sight fell onto the piece of furniture right next to it.
A mirror.
And with his, his matching reflection.
The reflection of a stranger. Another bolt of lightning struck the sky. But this time Izaya didn't flinch. He had moved over to the mirror to look at what he was.
Reflecting in his eyes the bolt of lightning only enhanced his vision further.
A pair of earrings resembling something that might as well be a golden moth dangled from his ears. Apart from the rest of his attire they were an addition he saw as fitting at least. Because that's what he felt like.
Like a moth.
Having flown into the light- and now? Having burnt to a crisp he was facing the consequences of his actions. He had been shot.
Was it a client? A random guy? He didn't know.
All he had was the memory of iron piercing his chest and the seeping hole it left behind.
Hand reaching for where his heart was supposed to be, Izaya swallowed.
He was alive.
He had reincarnated.
What was supposed to be impossible had occurred- if the option of being reincarnated was a real instance, then there might as well be a way to reverse it.
Another bolt of lightning struck the clouds and Izaya felt a bit of the weight leave his chest.
That's right.
If something like magic or a god's whim had brought him here, then there had to be a way to return.
He just had to find out how. And it just so happened that he excelled in gathering information.
Feet moving towards what appeared to be a working desk, Izaya quickly scanned its contents. A quill, yellowed paper and various pieces of written language Izaya couldn't quite read were presented in front of him. For a second he feared the language was something entirely unique to this world, but he was quickly assured as a piece of regular Japanese fell into his hand.
A letter.
The words "To Lord Raphael Montesquieu" were inscribed at the top and Izaya stilled for a moment.
Right. He had not died.
But someone else did.
Glancing at the mirror once more Izaya touched the borrowed reflection of his new body. It was a good one. He could have had it worse.
His teeth were white and straight, not ruined like the doctor's, he appeared to be in good health overall and his mental state was what it had always been.
But this guy- had died. His life was over to make place for Izaya.
He was never going to receive a burial. Never going to hear his family mourn for him.
Only Izaya knew he had existed and now ceased to do so.
"Rest in peace, Raphael," he said aloud as he was probably the only soul in this world who would remember him.
to be continued~
Alright~! Here we gooo, first chapter of the new story xD I guess no one saw an isekai coming hahaha And I bet a lot of you are wondering where Shizuo disappeared to, but fear not! C: This IS a Shizaya story after all xD Relish in the peaceful setting as long as you can, because that mood won't hold out for long xDDD